Page 61 of The Eye of the Fifth
Peering through thick eyelashes at her wings, as though doubtful they were strong enough to carry them both, Kyra said, ‘You won’t drop me, will you?’
Naal had to stifle a smile. ‘No, Kyra, I will not drop you.’
Nodding with a tad of reluctance, Kyra allowed Naal to scoop her into her arms. She was heavier than she looked, her body sculpted by lean muscle from years of fighting. ‘Ready?’
Kyra nodded again, although her reluctance was evident from the slight grimace on her face.
Naal broke into a run, her wings beating fiercely to lift them into the sky. As she levelled out and sailed, the air surrounding her body like a comforting cushion of home, she sighed with relief.
As quickly as she had promised Kyra, the Sky Horse came into view. It was a direct means of travel up the mountain from its base, thankfully empty from any Nythanorians seeking the only way to ascend to Phaenon without the aid of wings. Or on foot, which was frightfully advised against by any local who knew the terrain well.
She performed a swift and significantly more controlled descent than usual for Kyra’s benefit, and landed just outside the entrance to the Sky Horse. She set the girl back onto her feet and stretched her wings. Kyra had not made a single sound when in the air, but her eyes were now transfixed on Naal’s wings with absolute admiration, and perhaps a hint of envy.
Kyra gave a breathy, ‘Fuck.’
‘I assume your obscene language is a good thing in this case?’
‘Well, I now wish I had wings if that answers your question.’
Naal smirked. ‘Quite. This way.’
A significant amount of time had passed since she had last ridden the Sky Horse. Over a hundred years, if her memory served her well. Though the particular memory was not one she liked to recall for it was one of blood and death and heartbreak. The day she had left Winvara.
She was glad to know that this journey would be quite different.
The gate to the carriage swung with a squeal of resistance, as though it had not been opened in a while. Naal paid it no mind, putting its stiffness down to the briskness of the early morning as she stepped inside the wooden box.
‘This thing is going to take us to Phaenon?’ Kyra asked dubiously, eyeing the old and rusting pulley chains above them as she closed the screeching gate behind her.
‘It’s quite safe,’ Naal assured her. The ramshackle contraption outdated even her, but despite its worn appearance, it was an ambulatory structure that had not been compromised by the passing years, nor by the volatile and harsh climate it lived in. The manufacturers had been particularly attentive with the magic that protected their creation, and it still held strong over a thousand years later.
Such was the way of those ancient people who had truly understood magic and its limitless potential, even in the midst of chaos in the Void Ages.
The further the mortals of Droria moved from the Four, the less potent that wonderful magic became. Over her eight hundred years of life, Naal had watched it happen with a sadness as thick as a snowy mist on the mountain peaks in the heights of winter.
But she was proud, so proud that the majority of Nythanor had not fallen victim to the poison befalling the rest of the world. Theyunderstoodmagic here. They respected it, and in turn, respected the Four Mothers.
That ancient magic seared once the gate clicked back into place behind Kyra, and the Sky Horse jumped to action, soaring up the mountain at a high speed as the chains obeyed the spell put upon them in a different time, a different age.
Kyra stumbled with the jolting movement, but she gripped the wooden railing with quick hands and managed to keep herself upright. The rushing wind whipped at her face and hair as they moved through the air, and a delighted laugh escaped her as she looked out over the mountain's slopes, at the thousands of trees covered and contoured by unspoilt snow, glistening in the early sun.
A smile pulled on Naal’s lips at the infectious joy on the girl’s face; pure and wondrous, like a toddling babe discovering the miracles of the world for the first time.
That initial thrill wore off after thirty minutes, and Kyra was fast asleep in the corner of the Horse, oblivious to the breathtaking birdseye view they were about to have of Phaenon City.
Soon, they would pass the thick canvas of firs that made up the Waika Forest, and be witness to the carved phenomenon that was Nythanor’s capital.
But as the trees thinned and the city came into full view, the peace within Naal’s heart turned to leaden dread.
A blackened scene of abandonment lay where the city had once been. A scalding, contagious sword had cleaved through each district, leaving behind a grey, smoking husk. Every unique community, reduced to nothing but ash and embers as far as the eye could see.
There was movement amongst the debris, laboured and slow. Citizens that had survived the attack. So few of them.
‘Goddess… no…’ she breathed, tears burning her eyes as she stared, transfixed on the decimation below. The Sky Horse had almost completed its journey, and would soon slow to a halt but she could not wait. She jolted Kyra awake with a slight shake of her shoulder.
‘What, what?’ was her croaky and slightly alarmed response.
‘Stay in the carriage, even if you reach the end before I return,’ Naal said quickly. In the Horse, she would be protected by that ancient magic.
